


Come What May

by mickeym



Category: Popslash
Genre: Europe-era, First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-19
Updated: 2003-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:37:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/mickeym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes things are meant to be, regardless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come What May

It starts as a random thing, Justin rubbing up against him just before a show, brushing his mouth against JC's shoulder, or neck, or – once or twice – his mouth. Not a kiss, exactly, but it leaves JC shivering and tingling, wondering _what the hell?_

Justin's fifteen, and precocious in so many ways, but so innocent in others. JC reminds himself of that when they take the stage, his body humming with energy.

He doesn't think about the almost-kisses, or the not-quite-caresses unless he's completely alone, so he doesn't think about them much at all. But he likes the shiver of electricity that slips through his blood when they happen…and how it lingers.

~~~~~

Sixteenth birthday parties should always come with gold records, JC thinks, watching Chris and Lance talking to one of their producers. His came with a cake and punch that someone, probably Tony, spiked when no one was looking, and presents, and a renewal of his MMC contract.

Which wasn't a bad present in and of itself. But he's pretty sure nothing can top Justin's. And where is the birthday boy, anyway? JC frowns and twists his head, trying to see around the crowds.

"Smile, or they'll think you're not having fun," Justin whispers practically against JC's ear. Warm, moist breath swirls over his skin, already sensitized from the heat in the room and the energy still clinging to him from the performance earlier. He jumps, pretends he didn't feel Justin's mouth brush his skin, and spatters beer on his shirt. Well, it was warm anyway. No great loss.

JC's not really keen on German beer.

He turns with a grin fixed firmly in place, tries not to recoil when Justin's _right there_ beside him, in his space.  A fraction of an inch forward and he could kiss Justin—or Justin could kiss him. JC holds his breath, feels his heart pound fast and hard and wonders at the heat sliding furiously through his veins now. He can't breathe until Justin takes one step back, and the rush of air into his lungs makes him light-headed for a moment, spots of red and black dancing around the edge of his vision.

"Jesus. Justin. Where'd you come from?"

Justin looks around the room, probably checking for Lynn or Wesley or Mike, then takes JC's cup and swallows the rest of his beer down.

"I've been talking to people, stuff. It's my birthday party, so, y'know." Blue eyes, deep and guileless, stare at him and JC wonders at the fire he sees burning there. Justin's too young – isn't he? To have that. But no, not really. Justin's young, but. Not. And he's closer, leaning in so close, JC can smell his breath, the yeasty, heady scent of dark German beer mixing with the lighter, sweeter scent of Coke. He bites his lip and leans backward, freezes when he realizes the wall is right there behind him, solid, impenetrable. "Sweet sixteen," Justin murmurs, shifting a fraction closer. JC looks around frantically—how can so many people _not_ see an incredibly hot boy leaning in so close to him they may as well be kissing?

And when did that happen, anyway? When did Justin go from being this dorky younger kid who laughed at him and with him…to the incredibly hot boy leaning into him?

Justin licks his lips and JC shudders, full body, lightning licking along each nerve ending, sparking through him. He scrambles sideways, just enough that he can breathe again. "Justin—"

"Never been kissed," Justin finishes softly, then steps backward. JC closes his eyes for a minute; when he opens them again, Justin's disappeared into the crowd.

God. He's not sure whether he should be grateful or not.

~~~~~

_Sweet sixteen…Never been kissed._

Justin's words ring through his head at the most inopportune moments, and JC's not sure what it's going to take to get them out. Preferably gone forever. But nooooo, they linger, popping out unexpectedly at the weirdest times.

He's pretty sure Justin's been kissed, before. There was a lot of fooling around went on backstage of the MMC, even with the younger kids, and there was a whole lot of giggling and smiling and secretive looks between Justin and Britney.

JC runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. Before the party, he could enjoy the tingles and shivers from Justin's almost-touches, but now…now, he's becoming obsessed, and he's not really enjoying that much. He doesn't want to be obsessed with him. He's just—Justin.

He looks over to the table Justin's sharing with Lance while they do their homework, sees Justin biting down on his lower lip while he studies whatever it is he's studying, and sighs again. Fucking Justin, making him see and think things he really has no business seeing or thinking about a friend and bandmember.

"Hey, C?" Justin's voice cuts through his thoughts, and when he looks up and over, Justin grins at him. "Can you read over my essay? It's on the War of Eighteen-twelve." Justin's smile is bright, infectious, but wicked. JC sees the imp hiding behind bright blue eyes and silly grin, sees the man lurking behind the boy.

It's like a siren call, in a way. And he's never been so glad in his life that someone else is in the room with him and Justin. "Sure, man."

~~~~~

The crowd's already hyped; JC hears them through the thin walls of their backstage dressing room; hears the screams and cheers for the other bands. Someday they'll be headliners in their own right, he's sure of it. All the screams will be for them. The thought makes his blood fizz, makes him just a little light-headed and very warm. _Kinda like arousal_, he thinks distractedly, watching Chris pace around the small space, while Joey and Lance huddle together, talking about who-knows-what. And where's Justin? He needs to keep an eye out for him, so he can't slip up unnoticed—

He's right up in JC's face, mouth open, lips red and wet. Like he's been kissing. Or wants to kiss. Kissable. So close, so hot, it wouldn't take anything to lean in just a little, and watch Justin lean in closer, and—

Oh. Oh, god. Justin's mouth is warm. Wet. Just a brush of lips, of tongue, and JC's mouth tingles, burns, a slow, heavy burn that slides down his spine and lodges in his groin, adding to the pre-show excitement, making him harder than he already was.

And then Justin's gone, just like that, dancing out of the way before JC can react. He stares for a moment, licks his lips, then joins the Joey-Lance huddle in the corner. JC stands there, watches him go, and blinks twice slowly when he sees Chris scowl at him.

Why's Chris scowling at _him_?

Another two steps brings Chris close to him, nearly up-in-his face close.  "Don't fuck with him, Chasez." And whoa, did Chris learn mind-reading? JC clears his throat.

"Actually," he says softly, "I think he's fucking with me."

Chris snorts. "Didn't you ever crush on anyone, dude?"

Well, that's kind of an irrelevant question – to which the answer is 'yes', but really—oh.

JC blinks again. "I—crush? He's crushing on _me_?"  Because, honestly, if anyone had asked him, JC would've said Justin had a crush on Chris, what with the following-him-everywhere and constant near-worship thing.

Chris snorts again and JC kind of wants to smack him, to stop that. "D'oh. Pretty much anyone with eyes can see it, C. So I say again: Don't fuck with him."

Lynn pokes her head into the small room. "Five minutes, guys."

JC nods his head in her direction then focuses back on Chris. "I wouldn't. Won't. I mean—no."

Brown eyes clear and Chris smiles, nods. "I didn't think so, but. Yeah. Too much up here, dude," he taps JC's temple. "I just needed you to know, so you can—whatever. If you're gonna let him down," he frowns at this and JC's still trying to comprehend what he's saying, "do it soon, so he can move on."

"What? Chris, I—"

"Just sayin', man. Fish or cut bait, y'know?"

And Joey's hollering that they need to get their butts over here _right now_ to do a hackey, so JC can't respond to that – if he even knew what to say.

~~~~~

It begins slow, but ramps up bit-by-bit, a steady assault on his senses. Everywhere JC turns, Justin's there. Touching him, talking to him, teasing him, brushing against him.

He brushes his hand against JC's back or hand at every opportunity, now. Lets his fingers wander when they take turns ganging up on one for tickle fights and wrestling matches. Breathes into his ear, quick words like 'hi', or 'bye', or even, once, 'sexy', when JC would swear there was a quick lick with his tongue at the same time.

Before shows is worst, or best, depending on his frame of mind when thinking about it. Justin brushes against him, full body touch, breath moist and scented like spearmint from the gum he chews against dry mouth, rubs once, carefully. His mouth is always cool now, from the gum, but the touch of it ignites fire inside JC and it's all he can do not to grab Justin and pull him closer, open that wet, red mouth with his, and show him what a real kiss is.

He lets himself think about those touches and kisses now, whether he's alone or not, and he walks around at least half-hard all the time. Joey and Chris tease him about it sometimes, but Chris' eyes are dark with other meaning when he does, and JC isn't sure what 'don't fuck with him' actually means, any more. Does it mean go for it? Or not?

~~~~~

Germany bleeds into Spain, into Switzerland, into England, into so many countries JC can't keep track any more. They're in Africa for Lance's eighteenth birthday, still reeling from the idea of _Africa_, knowing they're promoting themselves, but unable to get past the 'oh, my god, we're HERE' thing. All five of them, even Chris, walk around with eyes wide and staring, trying to take in as much of it as they can.

Africa's a lot warmer than Germany could ever be, and JC loves it. He misses the heat and humidity of Florida. Hates being cold all the time, no matter how many layers he wears. He's always hot when he comes off-stage, but that's different. That's the heat of performing, the sheer rush of adrenaline, of knowing he's the one (or one of five) making the little girls scream and shout. Heat from performing is more like heat from sex than just being warm.

Thoughts of heat and sex make JC dart his eyes over to where Justin is watching the ostriches, fascinated like they all are. He's leaning awkwardly against the pen, his jeans pulling across his butt, and oh, _fuck_. It's like it all slams into JC at once, the tall, lean frame, big hands resting lightly against the framework of the pen, mouth open and laughing at something Chris just said, curls gleaming gold in the sun. If he could see Justin's eyes they'd be a deep, rich blue, color to rival the sea or the sky.

Sweat breaks out on his forehead and a passing breeze makes him shiver violently, because, oh, god. It's been there all along, he's been resisting, yes. Best as he can, because he's not entirely convinced it wouldn't be courting disaster to want – in any way – someone he still has to work with…not that that ever stopped people on MMC from dating, fighting, breaking up. They still went on. He could go to the 'he's younger than me' argument, but he has a cousin who dated a girl six years his junior for three years before they got married.

And JC knows he's nowhere near wanting a commitment of that magnitude for like, a long time – and doubts Justin is, either. But. Dating. Boyfriend. Sex.

Sex, with Justin.

Justin, wanting sex with him.

He's grateful for the picnic table behind him when his legs give out.

~~~~~

"Get the damn camera outta my face, Fatone!"

JC smiles at Chris' snarl, because _yes_, finally. He got tired of the camera months ago; it's about time someone else stopped finding it amusing. Not that it'll make a lot of difference in the long run; Joey grew up with an older sister and brother. He can ignore taunts and threats and snarls like nobody's business. JC, as the oldest, in his family, is more used to making the taunts and threats and snarls. As is Chris. Chris, though, is a lot more vocal than JC, so, maybe Joey will get a clue. He can only hope, because before a performance? Not the best time to film them, really.

There's a buzzing noise in his head, voices, sounds, and he closes his eyes to tune it all out, to bring himself into focus.

"Hey." The buzzing becomes a soft whisper, voice pitched low and not a little sexy. Justin. It's like having an itch he can't scratch, and JC finds himself wiggling in place.

"Hey." His throat feels dry. Justin grins and leans in toward him and JC's amazed by his ability to tune out everything else going on around them. His focus is one hundred percent on Justin. Narrowed down to blue eyes glinting brightly, to a mouth curved upward in a smile, lips gleaming damply. As he watches, Justin licks them, and just that flash is almost more than JC can stand. He shivers, catches himself raising his hands to—what? Pull Justin closer? Push him away? Clutch onto him?

He doesn't get a chance to do any of those, because Justin surges forward, taking the decision out of his hands. JC ends up clutching on because he doesn't want to fall, but then it's, oh, god, hot boy in his arms, and Justin's mouth on his, and this isn't the quick fly-by brush of mouth against mouth, this is a kiss. Hot and wet, Justin's tongue teasing against his lips, and JC opens to let it in. To taste him. Holding him is like holding a live wire, he can feel Justin vibrating in his grasp, and the slick slide of Justin's tongue over his makes him feel electrified, flashes of heat jittering along his nerves. Then it's over, too fast, not fast enough, and his mouth tingles, and he's hard and aching behind his track pants, and Justin runs his tongue over his lips and grins, but it's—different, this time. Hungry, mischievous, but still different.

"For luck," he whispers before backing away from JC. Over his shoulder, JC sees the other three watching. He closes his eyes and pretends no one saw that; when he opens them again, focus has shifted, and Justin's nowhere in sight.

~~~~~

The knock on his door after everyone's supposedly headed for bed is completely expected, mainly because JC grabbed Justin just before they entered the hotel and whispered, "my room, tonight."

Because something—has to give.

He has a feeling it's going to be him, and he's going to like being the one to give. Give in, give up, give—period. 

"Are you mad?" Is the first thing Justin says, and JC gapes at him for a second, before pulling him inside his room and pushing the door closed.

"Why would I be mad?"

"Because—well. Um. Kissing…in front of the other guys." Justin kind of mumbles the words, and JC shakes his head and reaches out to touch Justin's face. He takes him by the chin and tilts his head back just a little, wonders how long until Justin's actually taller than him. He's close, now.

"You kinda rocked my world, kiddo." JC leans in and brushes his mouth over Justin's, feels him shiver.

"You kinda rock mine a lot." Justin smiles, but unlike the last days, weeks, months, it's not cocky and certain; it's shy and unsure, eyes half-closed, dark lashes fluttering like butterflies against his cheeks. Something tightens around JC's heart, squeezes his chest just a little, while warmth flows through him. Warmth that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with friendship…and possibly more. "I don't—I've never kissed another guy, C." Those eyes are wide open now, pupils dilated, black surrounded by a thin ring of deep blue. "I always wondered, but didn't…care. And then—I dunno." He shrugs once and the movement brings him a little closer. JC wonders if he really _needs_ to breathe. He hopes not; he can't seem to get any oxygen in. "Just. One day…all I could think of was kissing you. A lot."

He tilts his head back and JC smiles, traces his thumb across full, red lips. Justin opens his mouth just a fraction and JC's thumb slips inside. He shudders when Justin bites down gently, flicks his tongue against the tip. The tightness in his chest expands, grows, surges outward as heat floods through him.

"Let's try that then, huh?" JC steps closer, presses Justin back against the door and cups his face, and Justin opens eagerly, hands sliding up JC's arms to clutch his shoulders. Justin's mouth is perfect, oh, god, so perfect. He could spend forever kissing him, exploring the silky, wet insides of his cheeks, the rough, slick palette, the hard enamel of his teeth. Justin's tongue teases his, stroking then darting away, and JC spreads his fingers and tilts Justin's head back a bit, angles deeper inside his mouth, tasting and learning.

One kiss becomes many, becomes long, drugging kisses without breaks. JC doesn't want to stop, ever, if possible, and from the way Justin clutches at him, fingers teasing the hair at his nape, he feels the same way. And it's not just his mouth; JC wants to taste and kiss as much of him as possible. He nips and licks at Justin's lips, sucks the bottom one into his mouth and lets it slide out slowly with a slick, wet sound that hangs in the air and makes his belly flipflop. Then there's the length of Justin's jaw to taste, slow licks and little bites, and Justin tastes faintly like soap and sweat.

He tilts his head obligingly when Justin murmurs something low and throaty, a whisper of "please", or maybe "I want", and he can't deny, can't say no. Licks his way out of Justin's mouth, one last taste of his lips, then groans softly when Justin licks up the length of his throat, stopping to suck on his Adam's apple.

"You taste good," Justin whispers, biting along JC's jaw, and he has to lock his knees in order to keep standing. Each little scratch of teeth, each soft gust of breath against sensitized skin makes him tremble, makes his blood run hot like quicksilver, and the ache inside him grows apace, curling out into every little part of him. "Want—can I touch you?" Justin drags his hand slowly down JC's chest, and he's aware suddenly that there're only thin t-shirts and boxers between the two of them. He can feel the heat from Justin's body, is aware of his erection pressing hard against his thigh.

"Yes—" JC takes Justin's hand and slides it the rest of the way down, rubbing over his stomach slowly, letting Justin feel the way it twitches and quivers under his touch, then down to cup himself, curling Justin's fingers around his hard-on before he lets go. Justin curls his fingers tighter, not really stroking, just pumping gently, but JC shudders, blows a breath out. He's afraid he's going to fall over or down, or something. "Bed—please—"

"Yeah." Justin's voice is thick, rougher than usual. He lets go of JC, but stays close as they stumble on unsteady legs to the small bed. JC barks his shin on the chair he left sticking out, and yelps once, then doesn't care because Justin's pulling him down on top of him and thin cotton is no barrier at all for two bodies to slide and rub against; it simply adds extra friction.

JC buries his face in Justin's neck and breathes in a deep, shuddery breath when Justin curls his hand around his erection again. "Can I?"

"God, yes. Please." He slides one hand up under Justin's t-shirt and rubs his fingers over one taut nipple, feeling it bud up tighter under his fingertips. Justin moans and squeezes him, and JC growls. "Justin—god. _God_."

Justin jerks away. "Does it—did I hurt you?"

"NO." JC bites his lip then kisses Justin gently, softly, licking and teasing his mouth. "No. God, please—it just. I. It feels good, m'kay? Really good." Another slow, easy kiss that deepens, and the slick, wet sounds of their mouths meeting ratchets the tension higher in JC's body. He pinches Justin's nipple once, lightly, and feels the quick jerk against himself.

"Oooh—"

"Like that?" JC pinches again and Justin quivers beneath him.

"Yes. Oh—oh, god." JC covers Justin's mouth with his and kisses him, long, slow sweeps of his tongue through Justin's mouth, swallowing the soft noises they're both making. He slides his hand downward, traces Justin's navel with one finger, then continues onward. Justin spreads his legs and JC laughs softly into his mouth, licks at the corners and nips at his lip again before rolling to his side, pulling Justin with him, placing Justin's hand back on his dick.

"Together," he says softly. "Together…god, you feel good." He strokes and rubs the hard-on poking through Justin's boxers, teases a finger over the wet spot spreading out across the thin fabric. Justin whimpers and arches up into his hand, hips swiveling around and up, and it's the hottest fucking thing JC's ever seen. He finds a rhythm and waits for Justin to match it, though waiting is so hard…_he's_ so hard his teeth ache.

Fire sweeps through him when Justin reaches into his shorts and touches him, curls his fingers tightly around his cock. JC can't help the rolling thrust, and then it's not so much fire as sparks shooting behind his eyelids, redwhitegold, bubbling as molten liquid through his veins, each beat of his heart pumping more heat outward. He tightens his grip, rubs his thumb over the sensitive spot just under the head and takes Justin's mouth in a deep, bruising kiss. They groan and arch together, coming almost in unison, hands sliding and stroking.  JC's head spins when he feels liquid heat sliding slickly over his fingers and it's all he can do to hold on, finish Justin off, one last spurt that pulls a long, low growl from him that JC echoes.

He rolls onto his back and Justin curls close into him, chest still heaving. Glazed blue eyes watch him raise his hand to his mouth, watch him lick and suck his fingers clean.

JC watches equal parts interest and revulsion shine from Justin's eyes.

"Is it—what's it taste like?"

"A little bitter, kinda strong. Salty-sweet." He leans over and kisses Justin slowly, sweeps his tongue around the inside of his mouth. "That's you. Now taste me."

Watching Justin lick tentatively at his fingers would be enough to make him hard again—if he weren't so tired. As it is, his head is pounding now, post-sex lassitude giving way to a desperate need for sleep.

"Stay?" He sweeps one hand down Justin's arm, feels the goosebumps prickling in his wake.

Justin nods, his mouth still curled where he's tasted JC's spunk—and hasn't decided yet if it's gag-worthy or not. JC hides a smile; he can tell him tomorrow it's an acquired taste…that you kind of get used to, if that's what floats your boat. "I told Lance where I'd be. But, not mom." He ducks his head. "She knows I, um. Like you. But not—this." He gestures vaguely and JC feels his stomach dip.

"Um. Good. Maybe later, but. Yeah." God. Definitely something else to think about. Tomorrow. He can deal tomorrow. For now—he yawns hugely and shifts to pull the covers down. "Catch the light, man."

Justin shuts the light off and strips his t-shirt off then curls into JC, mumbling a goodnight that's more breath than words. In the dark, feeling Justin warm and sweaty against him in the cool room, JC figures he doesn't much care what tomorrow brings; whatever it is, this makes it worth it.

"G'night, J."

There's no answer, Justin's already breathing slow and deep. But just before he slides into sleep, JC feels Justin's arms tighten around him ever so slightly.

~fin~


End file.
